


cause all of me (loves all of you)

by thesunandthestars



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Because honestly, F/M, Fluff, Romance, just a little collection of bughead missing moments, where are those two in the show?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-13 04:25:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18024644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunandthestars/pseuds/thesunandthestars
Summary: Give your all to me, I’ll give my all to you. You’re my end and my beginning. Even when I lose I’m winning.[A collection of canon-verse moments starring Betty and Jughead.]





	1. 3.13

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a place to store my little fics that come to mind when I’m thinking about all the little things we don’t see in the show. They’re all Bughead centric, sorry. I just adore those two so much. 
> 
> Title is from John Legend’s All of Me.

Archie’s bedroom light is out. The curtain is closed and the whole house is dark. From her perch on her window seat, Betty can’t see any movement inside the house. She doubts Mr. Andrews is home, since he always flips a few lights on when he is, and there’s even less of a chance that Archie’s home. He never is, not anymore. Archie’s not even really part of Betty’s day like he used to be. 

Archie is the least of her worries, she knows. Her own mother is (hopefully) still sitting on the couch downstairs, hair damp and eyes flickering about the house almost dreamily. Just a few minutes ago she’d announced she was selling the house, and that she and Betty were moving to the new Farm building to join Edgar Evernever and the other brainwashed people there. No offense—actually, full offense—but Betty would rather live literally anywhere else. Joining the cult of crazies that just almost successfully drowned your mother is decidedly _not_ on Betty’s bucket list. 

She refuses to look around the room and reminisce like her mother so Betty keeps her eyes closed, allowing only a single tear to trail down her cheek. It’s not the first time she’s seriously considered the offer to leave Riverdale Jughead gave her several months ago, and every time she thinks about it, it seems less crazy. It seems like more of a possibility, that the two of them could pack their things and go. Walk away, hand in hand, from the living hell Riverdale is home to, and start over. Start a new chapter, one that starts and ends with each other and not much else. 

But as much as she’s angry at her mother for joining a fricking _cult_ , there’s a bigger piece of her that’s scared for her mother and Polly’s safety. If she left Riverdale and allowed something horrible to happen to her mother and sister, she’d never forgive herself. She’d spend every waking moment regretting turning her back on them. She’d regret turning her back on her friends, who’d still have to live in a town run by a conman and his questionably sane wife. One that’s overrun by drugged-out teenagers worshipping some demonic “king” and claiming the game they play is more than just a game. 

Her eyes flutter open, and through the thick wall of tears Betty catches her reflection in the mirror on her vanity. The only signs of her plight are the wayward strands of hair peeking out of her ponytail from her frantic attempt to save her mother and the red tracks down her cheeks from her tears. Her gaze returns to the darkness outside her window and as she watches the streetlight in front of the Andrews’ house flicker, Betty’s brought back to another time she sat at her window seat with tears in her eyes. 

The memory is just as painful as she remembers—her phone lying innocently at her side, her eyes flickering to its screen in hopes that he doesn’t call. Her heart had been shattered, thanks to a single phone call from a particularly unwelcome caller and to the sudden absence of a certain person in her life. No, he hadn’t died, but it had still hurt. She’d rather let him go than lose him, but either way the wound would’ve never fully healed. 

Out of the corner of her eye, the door swings open almost hesitantly. Betty’s gaze falls on the person entering the room, but instead of her mother, the intruder she expects, it’s the boy she’d just been thinking about. 

Jughead doesn’t linger in the doorway for long—it’s proof that he knows her well, because he’s at her side in an instant, thumb brushing away her tears and arms encircling her. He doesn’t even have to ask what’s wrong. He just knows what she needs, and what she needs is him. She needs his unwavering support and his embrace. Face buried in Jughead’s neck, Betty allows herself to breathe. 

Jughead waits until Betty’s tears have subsided and her breaths have evened out before he gives her one last tight squeeze and pulls back enough to look at her. His gaze finds hers, and he waits patiently until she finds her voice. 

“What are you doing here?” she asks, curious but not rude. She just wants to know what provoked him to show up at her house. Not that he isn’t welcome—he is, very much so—but Betty knows he’s got just as much going on as she does. 

He squeezes his eyes shut like he’s trying to clear his mind of whatever it was that was going on before he came over. “I needed a break,” he admits. He doesn’t need to say the words _from the Serpents_ for Betty to know that’s what he means. “Thought I’d come see you. It always helps to clear my mind.” His gaze turns almost shy with those words, and Betty finds her lips curling upwards as his do. 

“What’s...what’s going on with you?” he asks, choosing his words carefully. It’s obvious he knows something’s wrong. He did walk in on her sobbing, after all. 

It takes Betty a minute to respond. “The Farm is ruining my life,” she says finally, and tries to blink away the next round of tears that comes with her words. “It’s ruining my mom’s life, and she doesn’t even care. And Polly...Polly’s so far into it that there’s nothing I can do about her.”

Jughead’s heard a version of this speech before. They’ve talked about it many times, after all. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asks, truly phrasing it as a question. He won’t push her, she knows, and she’s forever grateful for this. 

“Yes,” she whispers after a beat, hoping that getting it off her chest will help to ease the pain. It usually does, anyway. And she knows that it’s no use trying to handle it alone. She’ll surely crumble under the weight of this burden. “My mom told me just yesterday that she was getting baptized, when I asked why she had her wedding dress out on the table. Apparently the people at the Farm believe the baptism is the key to unlocking your destiny and being reborn or something. I did some research on the Farm, wanting to know what exactly was going to happen during this baptism, and I found a long list of names, people who have escaped the Farm. I contacted them all and one woman agreed to talk to me. She told me how…” Her shoulders are shaking again, and Jughead’s hands around her waist tighten like he’s flinching from pain. Perhaps he is. Perhaps her pain is his pain. “How her sister _drowned_ during her baptism.” Jughead already knows what’s coming next—she can tell by the way his eyes widen just a hair and he exhales a little puff of air through his nose. “By the time I got to the old Sisters of Quiet Mercy building, Polly was…Polly was holding my mom underwater and she wasn’t breathing.” She chokes on the last word, a new round of tears beginning. “I did CPR and got her home but she…” Now it’s anger that’s taking over, and one of Jughead’s hands drops to hers to keep her from digging her nails into her palms. “She refuses to believe that she could’ve died if I hadn’t saved her. She doesn’t believe me, Jug.”

He’s pulled her closer again, murmuring into her ear, but Betty’s not finished. “And then she told me that while she was _drowning_ she had a vision or some shit that she was supposed to sell the house and move to the Farm. With me. She wants me to join them, Jug, and there’s no way in hell I’ll ever do that.”

“You’re damn right,” he responds, voice firm and embrace tight. “You’re not going anywhere, and neither is Alice. I’m gonna do something about this.”

Betty honestly appreciates his resolve, but she feels guilty. He’s got enough on his plate as it is—being the leader of a gang at seventeen is no easy feat. “You’ve got the Serpents to worry about,” she reminds him. 

Jughead huffs. “Yeah, and that’s going just wonderfully,” he replies sarcastically, tone bitter. Betty cocks an eyebrow, inviting him to continue, and Jughead shakes his head in frustration before doing so. “All the girls have defected to the Pretty Poisons,” he informs her, which she already knew, but Betty can tell he’s still got more to say. “The Serpents were going to go extinct, Betty. It was just me, Fangs, Sweet Pea, and two other guys. I tried to get the Ghoulies to join forces, but they don’t exist anymore. Those that haven’t joined the Gargoyle gang have quit gang life altogether.” His gaze is hard and Betty knows the worst is yet to come. “My mom walked into the trailer just a few hours ago with the Gargoyle gang. I don’t know what she did to get them to join, but now they’re my responsibility. And they’re insane, Betty. I don’t want anything to do with them.”

Betty can only imagine his apprehension when the Gargoyle gang walked in behind his mother. She feels the same way about them—she really doesn’t want anything to do with them, and she definitely doesn’t want _Jughead_ to be anywhere near them. But she has to be optimistic. She refuses to give up, even after everything. “We’ll figure it out, Jug.” She laces her fingers through his. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she gives him a half-grin and quips, “Who knows, maybe you’ll charm them.”

His mouth twitches, barely visible, but Betty has a mental catalogue of all of his expressions and she can tell he’s just barely holding back a smile. “Yeah, because my sardonic humor, insatiable appetite, and weird attachment to my ten-year-old beanie are all very attractive qualities.”

There’s no stopping the half-teasing, half-fond smile that turns up the corners of her lips. “I don’t know,” she muses, “I fell in love with all of that a while ago.”

Their eyes meet again and Jughead offers her his signature almost-smile, pulling her into his arms once more. He drops a kiss on the top of her head, her head tucked under his chin. She’s so worn out from the day’s events that, eyes now closed, she begins to drift off, lulled to sleep by the even thumping of Jughead’s heartbeat. 

She may be living in a world where disaster and pain are regular visitors, but at least Betty knows she’s safe, for now, held tight in Jughead’s embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is set during 3.13, because I honestly hate how Bughead is barely onscreen anymore. We don’t get to see the little moments of them comforting each other, which is one of my favorite things to see. So I decided to do it myself. :)
> 
> Thanks so so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this little missing moment! <3
> 
> Side note: This chapter is dedicated to Luke Perry, whom I never met but I trust it when I hear he was a great man. We love you, Luke. Rest in peace. <3


	2. 3.16

“What’re we gonna do?”

Jughead’s hanging his head, hands running through his hair once, twice. His beanie lays beside him on the couch, and on his other side, Betty watches him. She doesn’t have to look around to be reminded that they’re surrounded by the remnants of Gladys Jones’s drug lab. The trailer’s full of empty vials and trash and Betty’s heart hurts for Jughead, for the semblance of belonging he lost when Gladys walked out the door all those years ago and for the heartbreak regarding his mother he experienced more recently. 

She wants to cheer him up, any way she can. Anything to pull his gaze from the scene around them and anything to mend the wound in his heart. Seeing Jughead like this happens much too often for her liking. He deserves a little less disappointment in his life. A _lot_ less, really. 

(She hates everything he’s had to go through. She hates that he had to live in a closet at school for several weeks because it was safer than home. She hates that he was essentially guilted into joining a gang at sixteen and becoming the leader not long afterward, a move they both know is going to be very difficult to take back when college rolls around. She hates _things_ , yes, but she tries not to make hating people a habit. Even so, it’s hard not to feel something close to hatred for Gladys Jones, who’s broken her son’s heart and screwed up his life two times now, which is two too many. She feels something close to hatred for all the people who have judged him or doubted him based on their own ignorant assumptions. It’s reality, sure. But it shouldn’t have to be.)

Betty’s mind strays to a song she’s heard during rehearsal for Heathers many times, one she can picture Josie and Sweet Pea singing without even closing her eyes. “I’ve got a crazy idea,” she says before she even realizes the words have left her mouth. It really is a crazy idea—after all, it’s almost opening night and she knows the show well enough now to know exactly what the circumstances of said song are, and they’re certainly not these—but it’s a powerful song and she thinks it’d be worth a try. 

“Let’s be normal,” she says, beginning where it makes most sense for them. “See bad movies. Sneak a beer and watch TV.”

As she sings the first words, Jughead’s head snaps up, and she’s glad to have his attention. He’s not looking at her yet, but she knows he’s listening. “We’ll bake brownies,” she continues, gaze never leaving her boyfriend, “or go bowling.”

He’s still staring stubbornly somewhere between the floor and the opposite wall, so Betty’s arms come up to wrap around his shoulders and pull him infinitesimally closer. “Don’t you want a life with me?”

She knows he does. He’s said it himself many times: _I want this forever, Betty. I’ll never stop loving you._ And she wants it just as much. But now isn’t for dwelling on the future. Now is for living in the present. “Can’t we be seventeen?” she sings, noting that she doesn’t sound nearly as good as Josie. Hopefully it’s enough. “That’s all I want to do.” She wants to be here, with him. Seventeen in all its glory. 

Finally, _finally_ , he turns his head toward her, and there’s such utter hopelessness in his eyes that’s so uncharacteristic that Betty almost stops singing mid-note. Jughead turns away from her only a beat later, and Betty knows he sensed her surprise. “If you could let me in,” she continues, hand coming to rest on his neck as she gently rubs circles into his skin. “I could be good with you.” 

Jughead lifts himself from the couch suddenly, and the movement almost stings. There’s a split second where Betty’s brain registers rejection, but then Jughead’s responding to her in kind, working though the lyrics in a low timbre. “People hurt us,” he sings, and Betty realizes she’s never heard him sing before. Ever. He’s no Beyoncé, not even close, but his voice is soothing and Betty thinks she could get used to it. 

She recovers from the little bubble of both shock and pride and replies, “Or they vanish,” knowing full well they’ve switched the roles. It works better this way, she thinks. The lyrics speak to them differently than they did to the characters. 

He’s standing several feet in front of her, and Betty wishes she could see his face. “And you’re right, that really blows.”

“But we let go,” she says, hoping that he’s getting the message she’s sending through this song. She hopes he’s hearing her. And yes, she’s just switched so that she’s the one singing Veronica’s lines. Sue her if she likes the character. 

Jughead sings the next line so soft Betty almost misses it. “Take a deep breath.”

“Then go buy some summer clothes,” she sings back, watching as Jughead turns to her and makes his way back to her, almost looking like he’s pacing. 

“We’ll go camping,” Jughead replies almost exasperatedly, throwing his hands out at his sides. The line pulls Betty back to a time where they were essentially camping, holding each other close in the firelight. Even then, last summer, they had so much on their plate. So much to worry about when they should have been able to just be kids.

“Play some poker,” she sings softly, eyes not leaving Jughead’s as he comes to stand in front of her. 

His response is right on time with Betty’s hand lifting from her side to touch his face. “And we’ll eat some chili fries.”

Betty can tell he’s still worrying about all of _this_ —the trailer full of drug equipment, his _mom_ being the source of all of this—so she finishes the rest of the first verse on her own, desperate to get to the chorus, where she knows he’ll join back in. “Maybe prom night, maybe dancing, don’t stop looking in my eyes.”

“Your eyes,” he calls, and the upward twitch of his lips is subtle but not enough to go unnoticed by Betty. 

“Can’t we be seventeen?” They’re swaying slightly now, Betty’s hands near Jughead’s collar and his resting on her waist. “Is that so hard to do?” She brings her hands up behind his head and threads them through his hair, bringing her forehead to his. Jughead’s eyes are closed and Betty marvels at how his mouth forms around the words. (She loves his mouth. So many good things are associated with it; playful comments, soft kisses, declarations of love. And other things, things that make her toes curl and her belly flame, but that’s beside the point.) He pulls back from her, ever so slightly, and Betty tilts his head back with her hands, wishing she could untie the knot that’s perpetually furrowing his eyebrows. “If you could let me in, I could be good with you.”

Jughead knows JD’s part _well_ , better than she’d ever realized. He knows all the notes and the timing, and he sounds _good_. Maybe Betty’s a little biased, but she thinks that together, they sound _really_ good. 

They’re moving now, her hands finding his as they lean back at the same time, trusting each other to hold on. Jughead pulls her back in and wraps one hand around her waist, the other one still linked with hers. “Let us be seventeen,” they both sing, Jughead’s hand coming up to caress her neck, “if we still got the right.” His hand wanders to her back to hold her steady as he dips her, and Betty feels her lips pulling into a smile as Jughead rights them, her arms never leaving their spot around his neck. 

God, she loves him so much. She’s so grateful that she can do this. That she can twirl around and sing with the person she loves most, in the trailer that went from his childhood home to his mother’s drug lab. Turn a bad memory into a good one. 

“So what’s it gonna be?” Her eyes are closed now, and once again her forehead is resting against Jughead’s. “I wanna be with you.”

“I wanna be with you,” he echoes, sinking to his knees. There’s such a raw and open expression on his face, one of love and trust and gratitude, and Betty couldn’t be happier to be the one to earn it. 

“Wanna be with you,” she responds as she kneels as well, cupping his face in her hands and pulling him closer once more. Her eyes are closed now, but she can feel Jughead’s face under her fingertips and the warmth of his arms around her waist. 

She loses herself in his touch and his voice as they both sing the last word of the chorus: tonight. They’re so close now, close enough for Betty to feel his breath as he belts the note, and his hands at her back are warm and familiar. In her head, the instrumental plays, and Betty shifts up to the higher note right on cue. (Or, at least what she hopes is on cue. The music’s all in her head.)

They cut the note off together after a few beats and Betty’s subsequent gasp for breath is swallowed by Jughead’s mouth. His lips move insistently against hers, needy, wanting, and Betty’s more than happy to oblige. Her thumb traces his jaw as his hands tighten around her waist, bringing her flush against him. 

(It’s such an exhilarating feeling. She loves this so much, loves _him_ with everything she is. Betty can’t even begin to fathom how people fall out of love, how they wake up one day and it just doesn’t feel right anymore. She never gets tired of him; of holding him close, of loving him. Of listening to him, of laughing with him. And she never will, she swears. Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones are here, together, against all odds, and that’s the way it will always be.)

It’s not a long kiss, but Betty’s still breathless when they part. She skips to the last line of the song, and is pleased when Jughead quickly catches on. She’s mere inches from him, and even with her eyes closed she knows they’re perfectly in sync. “You’re the one I choose.”

They stay there for a few beats, kneeling on the floor of the trailer. His lips find hers again, but this time it’s not desperate. They simply _be_ , lips pressed to the other’s and hands stilled. 

They’re in no hurry. Betty doesn’t have to leave for rehearsal for several hours, and Jughead has little else in his routine than being the Ned to her Nancy. (Well, he has to check up on the Serpents every once in a while, but that’s so not the point.) 

“Now what?” Jughead whispers, so quietly that Betty almost misses it, despite being mere inches from him. 

Now what? It’s a good question, and honestly, Betty hasn’t gotten that far. _Now what?_ What does one do in this situation? They need to get rid of the drug industry in Riverdale, no doubt about it. But what do they do with the trailer? The Serpents found it tucked away in an unassuming junkyard, where it remains. Betty can’t think of a way to move it, let alone where to move it to. 

“We’ll figure it out,” she replies finally. They’ll figure it out. She knows they will. They always do, after all. They always manage to dig their way out of whatever hole they’ve fallen down, move past any obstacle. Things have certainly ramped up in the past few months, sure, but that’s never stopped them before. 

_We’ll figure it out,_ Betty promises herself, hands laced through Jughead’s and gaze never leaving his. _We will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, another chapter! Phew!
> 
> This one is set in 3.16, hence the title, and it takes place during what is now known as one of the best Bughead moments ever to exist (at least in my opinion). I fell so hard in love with all of the Bughead moments in this episode, but I felt like the Seventeen scene would be easiest for me to add on to. 
> 
> So here you go! Some good ol’ Bughead lovin’ for you all to enjoy! <3


End file.
